Awakening (44 page)

‘Now the Emperor is sick again, or at least not the ruler we had hoped. I like not having the gems so proximate. It has danger about it. In fact I think the gems like not to be so used. And now what does my Lord intend? To display them side by side, to show them to the world.’

‘What of it?’

Blut shook his head.

‘It may be safe. Or it may be like putting a lucifer next to a pile of wood soaked in petrol, and lighting it. Mirror knows what conflagration there might be. I like it not, Madam, not at all.’

Leetha hesitated and then said, ‘We shall risk it if he wishes it. Without him we would not be here at all.’

They were talking in low voices, in the Emperor’s private quarters in the corridor behind the throne in the Great Hall, beyond the arras there. A shadow fell, a voice spoke.

‘How true, my dear, how true.’

It was Sinistral himself, come up from the deep. He had heard it all.

He raised a hand as Blut’s eyes widened in alarm.

‘Treason perhaps, Blut, but not treasonable. You are right; I employ you to speak the plain truth.’

‘Thank you, Lord. You look well but tired.’

‘I am well and I am tired. Now let me guess, you were about to say that I have become irrational.’

‘I was, Lord. You told me yesterday that you can feel the Earth think.’

‘I can.’

‘You said that you see in people several of their lives at once.’

‘I do . . . I see them in Bochum’s corridors, hurrying about, doing things, going in one direction when they should be going in another . . . I see their different lives all too well.’

‘See, not imagine, Lord?’ asked Leetha.

She sat down, her garments shot through with the light grey the Emperor liked. His were black, his blond hair sleeked, his brows blackened with a paste of lemon, gall and iron rust, his lips paled with a touch of chalk. She the same.

‘I see those lives as plain as brot. Imagine someone is a brot baked this morning and therefore sliceable. I see them as that brot and I see them as its slices.’

‘In parts, which make a whole? Is that it, my Lord?’

‘No, it is not it, Blut, in the sense you mean. The slices are their different lives, lived in this world, each the result of a different choice. I decide to execute you for treason and a thousand slices emanate. I decide not to and another thousand come into play. It is endless, so naturally I do not see them
all
. Just the interesting ones.’

Leetha pondered this and could see Blut’s point. Such visions were peculiar to say the least, and perhaps a sign that the Emperor might be less than sane.

‘He will tell you, my dear, that I am also, sometimes, sick. I vomit as does Slew and he believes, rightly I think, it is the gem.’

‘He has said as much already, Majesty.’

‘Has he now?’

Blut stayed expressionless.

‘Does he know, by the by, that to say the Emperor is insane is treasonable?’

Blut answered the question himself to remind them he was there.

‘I do and I should. I drafted that legislation myself.’

‘You see, Blut always speaks the truth. If he did not I would have to have him killed. But as he does, I don’t. Truth well told is a very powerful thing. Encourage it. Now I must go.’

Smiling still, the Emperor went and left them to it.

‘And another thing, Lady,’ whispered Blut, ‘my Lord sits topper-most with Witold Slew your son, the leather pouch in his hand, and feeds him glimpses of the light of the gem of Summer as if it was an opiate.’

‘What else?’

‘He wishes to destroy Brum now he knows it has thrown out the Fyrd.’

‘That
is
insane,’ she said.

‘He has ordered General Quatremayne to assemble a force of Fyrd to cross the North Sea and attack Brum.’

‘When?’

‘Soon.’

‘Anything else?’

Blut hesitated because there was, but how to broach it?

‘It is nothing.’

‘Let me judge that.’

‘The day he submitted to the gem’s power and light and was restored, he expressed a fear, irrational I think.’

‘I do not recall.’

‘He was afraid the long-dead ã Faroün, his mentor when he was a boy, would somehow reappear . . .’

Her eyes went cold.

‘Well, my Lady, of late he has woken with that name upon his lips – not at night but when he sleeps in the day. He trembles and whispers that name.’

She raised her hand.

‘It is better not to speak it in his presence, Blut. It . . . haunts him still.’

‘What does?’

‘What happened to ã Faroün.’

‘What did happen? If it affects my Lord I should know.’

‘It was as simple and stark as it was horrible. The Emperor had to witness the execution of his beloved mentor.’

‘Why?’

‘I cannot say.’

‘You cannot or prefer not?’

‘The latter. He was falsely accused of arcane practice with my Lord. You say he has spoken that name?’

‘Yes . . . but arcane practice? What is that?’

Lady Leetha did not answer. Instead she said, ‘It is a pity you did not tell me this before. I might have soothed him. There is ill-magick in that name. It conjures up bad things, like a spell that brings forth evil.’

‘When was this, my Lady?’

‘When he was in his thirties and his mentor in his hundreds, his longevity being due of course to his possession of the gem. He was burnt.’

‘
Burnt?
’

‘Alive.’

‘His father forced the Emperor to light the flame. That act, those screams, haunt him still. Hence his nightmares and fear of fire. The gem, the very thing that gives him life, reminds him of that terrible death . . . I am sorry he has such worries now. It augurs ill. That name is not good luck.’

Blut, absorbed, suddenly realized the time.

‘Forgive me, I am late . . .’

‘For what, Blut?’

‘A meeting with the finest chef in the Hyddenworld.’

‘Who made that claim?’

‘He himself,’ said Blut without a smile, ‘but others say the same.’

Leetha laughed.

‘You mean the celebrated Parlance, former personal chef to Lord Festoon, High Ealdor of Brum, now a runner of restaurants, a caterer extraordinaire and, in his way, even a healer?’

‘The same. I have hired him to create the banquet at the coming celebration of the gems. He is an irritating fellow who affects to speak French but is Brummie born and bred. However, he can cook. As for Brum . . . it has a delightfully self-important High Ealdor who has no power, and a very ordinary Marshal, Igor Brunte, who has real control . . . and the bilgesnipe of that city are treated with respect. Extraordinary. Were I the Emperor I would investigate the place.’

Leetha stood, turned, her perfume wafting in the air, her dress swinging.

‘Perhaps you ought to be,’ she said softly.

‘I think not, my Lady.’

Blut hurried off to meet the chef.

‘My Lord,’ he said two hours later, ‘my apologies for being late.’

In fact this was not quite the truth.

He
had
been late, Parlance was hard to shake off, but when he arrived to see the Emperor as arranged he was asleep in a chair, a blanket to his chin despite the Summer warmth. He had therefore sat and waited until his Lord, his rest unsettled, tears flowing from a dream, woke up.

So why Blut apologized he did not know.

‘What were you doing that made you late?’

‘Talking to a chef.’

‘Ah, excellent. For the banquet? Talk me through the arrangements.’

Blut sighed, shook his head, pursed his lips and looked disapproving. He produced a file.

‘If you would glance at this, Lord,’ he said grudgingly, ‘it outlines the arrangements that will make it possible for the maximum number of people to see the gems safely, the Hall not being big enough.’

Sinistral read the document in silence.

When he had finished he said, ‘I had a dream just now. In fact, I wept.’

‘Yes,’ said Blut, non-committally.

‘Did you hear that shimmer of a change in the Earth’s song? Just now, a moment ago, I think. Or was I asleep again?’

‘You have been in and out of sleep today, Lord, or as I prefer, in and out of waking. I have heard many sounds while I have been sitting here but their interpretation escapes me as yet. They are very beautiful.’

‘They are, Blut. People should take more time to listen to the Earth.’

He leaned forward confidentially.

‘I was weeping in my sleep for you, I think.’

‘
Me
, my Lord?’

Blut’s surprise was real.

‘For you. That shimmer I felt was a warning sign that change is on the way. In a sense, change is always on the way, since nothing stands still in the Universe. There is no stasis and people would be happier if they accepted that fact.’

‘We have often said as much, but—’

‘We?’

‘Forgive me. My wife and I. That nothing lasts for ever, least of all such shifting states as happiness and unhappiness.’

‘You are a philosopher, Niklas.’

Blut shook his head.

‘No, I have simply listened and remembered the things you have said or written in the past. It is a privilege—’

Sinistral raised his hand.

‘Please, Blut, do not be the courtier, it does not suit you.’

‘But it
is
a privilege knowing you, my Lord. It is a training, Lord.’

‘For what?’

The Emperor’s eyes were sharp, not mad at all.

‘For . . . life, Lord, nothing more.’

‘Well, well . . . that shimmer was a warning; my tears preceded it, sensing its coming. Our unconscious worlds are as big as the Universe because they
are
the Universe. I wept because of the command I must now give you – but I fear nothing less will do.’

‘Lord?’

‘Send away your family to a place of safety.’

Blut stayed silent.

‘You do not seem surprised or even alarmed. It is a command.’

‘Then I shall, Lord.’

‘Now, the celebration . . . it is imminent?’

‘In two days’ time.’

‘Brief me.’

The idea had started with a desire to have a public celebration of the Emperor’s ‘recovery’ at which various medals and awards might be presented to the great and the good in recognition of their services to the Empire over the two decades of his sleep.

Blut had seen at once that such an event would be an organizational, political and diplomatic nightmare, since everyone who was anyone would feel slighted if they were not invited to attend. That was bad enough, but manageable.

But when Witold Slew arrived with the gem of Spring the Emperor added a finale – a public display of the two gems he now possessed, together.

‘My Lord, if you do that then the ordinary people will want to come as well . . .’

‘And why not? Are not the ordinary people, as you put it, the very stuff and heart of the Empire?’

‘They are, of course, but the Great Hall can only accommodate so many . . . and many have a rightful claim to be there, starting with the courtiers. No matter, we have put in place measures to stop most of the invited guests even attending . . .’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘They have invitations, but by the time they have been processed the event will be over. They have the honour of being invited; we have the pleasure of not entertaining them. They will blame the administration, Lord.’

‘You mean you.’

‘I mean the person I have put in charge. You will need to punish him.’

‘Do I know him?’

‘Better that you don’t know his name . . . It is hard to shake the hand of a courtier you are going to execute.’

‘As a matter of fact it isn’t. I have often done it but that was before your time. But you’re right; I do not need to know his name. Meanwhile, have you seen my new robes? They are magnificent.’

‘No, my Lord, I have had one or two other matters to attend to, like security, to stop a revolution; catering, to feed four thousand guests; procurement, to ensure a supply of eight thousand flagons of mead and—’

‘Ah! You have not time to see my robes?’

‘And then there is the matter of . . . of . . .’

For the first time in eighteen years Blut felt himself losing control.

‘Sit down, Blut. You can forget my robes, they will be all right. What matter is it that worries you so much?’

Blut wiped his brow and asked the Emperor’s forgiveness for his momentary lapse. ‘It is of no real consequence I suppose, but some things drive one beyond breaking point.’